I Remember...

I Remember

If your I in the world has

life in the world, against collective

masks which are ramparts to

be pushed past, there is little to

remember but luck; even

anguish vindicated, even

discomfort blessed in its

wretched restlessness. You

were young & heedless then,

your I not noticing mirages

you were forced to splash

around in— brittle lips,

skins, faces, ointments

applied to pixilate against

the integrity of the real. Your

I was joined by others of

your ilk, possessed by

visions, narratives, stoned

on history’s absolute rocks.

Now, I remember how I’ve

been charmed— thunder &

lightning only equipped to

disperse the right battalions,

fighting in empty space for

the non-existent; heartiness

of nudes, on/off webbed walls—